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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716888">absolution</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/illiterateidiot/pseuds/illiterateidiot'>illiterateidiot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, serial killing cannibals surprsingly bad at talking at feelings, will and hannibal talk about god for like ten minutes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:42:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/illiterateidiot/pseuds/illiterateidiot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Most men come here looking for religion,” Hannibal begins. “Do you?” Will huffs a laugh that at least has the decency to sound bitter. He turns his head to search for Hannibal’s eyes and finds him already looking. </p><p>“I’ve already found religion,” he says like a reminder. “I came here to repent.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>absolution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i had to research veggietales for a scene in this fic i didn't even end up keeping</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The church is something out of a dream. Will cannot personally comment on the architecture—his knowledge lacking even in current company—but the wooden arches and stain-glass windows are a work of art that leave Will feeling more at peace than God ever did. Perhaps he’s picking up habits. Appreciating the aesthetics more than the life of it all. He wants to be disturbed, but there’s something comforting in looking at a house of God the way Hannibal would; with appreciation for its beauty rather than its meaning. That is part of the reason he’s here.</p><p>He gets twenty minutes to himself in the sanctuary and finds he does not miss being alone like he thought he would. Perhaps it was the year with his family that gave him that. Perhaps it is the company he shares now, bringing a feeling like suffocation that makes him reach out rather than turn away. That same closing of his throat acknowledges his solitude is over and he moves over to make room in the pew. Hannibal follows. He always does.</p><p>“Most men come here looking for religion,” Hannibal begins. “Do you?” Will huffs a laugh that at least has the decency to sound bitter. He turns his head to search for Hannibal’s eyes and finds him already looking.</p><p>“I’ve already found religion,” he says like a reminder. “I came here to repent.”</p><p>“You still find yourself conflicted?” And no one else would know the worry in that statement. He sounds calm and collected, like the answer is of no matter to him. Will can see it, though. The tiredness in his eyes, the sigh in his voice, the shift of his body to lean back against the pew that would be fidgeting in anyone else. A wary nervousness, a <em>fear</em>, that Will knows he alone can make Hannibal feel. It breaks his heart and makes him smile.</p><p>“Conflicted? No,” he decides. “I know what I want, and I no longer feel compelled to push those wants down. I have condemned my own happiness for long enough,” the finality in his voice seems to put Hannibal at ease. “But I can’t help but wonder what they think of me now. The people I’ve hurt, the people I’ve left behind…” Hannibal’s eyes don’t quite narrow, but his jaw does clench at the vague reminder of Will’s family. “I can say with honesty I’d rather be here, but my unapology does not take away the knowledge that what I want, what I <em>do, </em>is wrong.”</p><p>“It’s wrong to follow your nature? To choose your own happiness over the world’s definition of right and wrong?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>. It’s the selfishness I’ve been trying to avoid for six years,” Will knows Hannibal has a response, most likely something about bathing the world in blood and selfishness being an illusion. He does not give him the chance. “They think you’re the Devil. They see your… assault on the world and dehumanize you because they find the Devil walking among us mere mortals easier to palate than your taste for wickedness being something <em>human</em>. And you like that. That the world is so damn awed by you that they can’t even admit you’re human.” Hannibal smiles.</p><p>“You can.”</p><p>“Because I would choose you either way,” he says. The smile only grows, and Hannibal doesn’t look surprised, per se, but he does lean forward in intrigue. “I know you’re human, but if I found out you were the Devil himself tomorrow, I would stay. I would want to. And what does that say?” He asks. “They know the Devil is evil; he wants to inflict suffering and pain, and he doesn’t care who gets in the way. But they have to ask about the man who chooses to stand beside him. Who loves him.” And it is not new information to Will. He has known and repressed and <em>hurt </em>over it so long it is the truest thing he knows. But it is, it seems, news to Hannibal. “They have to wonder if he's worse than the Devil. So do I.”</p><p>“Not worse, Will. Equal to.” <em>This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.</em> The scene replays in his mind. They have been down this path of distrust and devotion so many times.</p><p>“We both forgive like God and love like religion. What’s to be done about that?”</p><p>“We rewrite the book. We remold His majesty.” Will smiles sadly.</p><p>“The book’s been printed. The mold has dried. The ending is as inevitable as we are.”</p><p>“May we speak candidly?” Hannibal asks, having the audacity to sound frustrated as if he did not teach Will this language of metaphor and not-quite honesty. “Please?” And the word is not foreign on Hannibal’s tongue, but this does not sound like a rigidly polite man’s request. It sounds like begging. Will finds he likes it.</p><p>“Candidly? So, there’s no bible story you’ve pulled from the recesses of your mind? The one story no one else would remember where God makes the choice to forgive with kindness instead of fury? To give a second chance at worship?”</p><p>“God is not the man I’m trying to worship,” and perhaps Will was not ready for that level of candor. Hannibal’s hands find his, grasping them tight in his own, and his eyes pierce Will with a determination that leaves him breathless. He couldn't look away if he wanted to. “I know I am not the Devil. I certainly know I am not God. I have come to terms with the fact that I am expectedly, disgustingly human and unequivocally yours<em>.</em> I don’t care what destruction others have reaped in the name of God. I never killed for Him. I’ve killed for me, and I’ve killed for you. I will kill in your name, by your sacrifice, and that alone. God has no part in it.” There is much Will wants to say. He already knew he wouldn’t, but he still notes that not one word of it is, “No”. Because he wants it. All of it. The worship, the sacrifice, the knowledge that he alone controls the mold of their world. It's not completely true, though. The worship goes both ways.</p><p>“Are either of us even religious?” He finds himself asking, instead of acknowledging the reverence in his thoughts. It still comes out an awestruck murmur. Hannibal gives him a smile that reminds Will of the day they met.</p><p>“No, my Will. Simply prideful.” He doesn’t know what does it. It could be the mirth in Hannibal’s voice. It could be the rough hand firmly gripping his own. It could just be that he wants to and he's finally letting himself want honestly and freely. Whatever it is, he doesn't waste another second before leaning in. He always figured the moment he gave in would be bloody, breathless, and terrible in the way only men like them could enjoy. Instead, it is silent except for the hitch in Hannibal’s breath when their lips touch, and Will's soft exhale of surprise that he could cause something like that with just a single chaste kiss. It makes him want to push harder. He pulls back and escapes Hannibal’s grip to cradle his face in a way that's almost familiar but this time, oh this time, they'll get it right. Hannibal turns his face to kiss the palm of Will’s hand. They stay there staring for a moment, soaking in the gentleness with bated breath. The moment does not break, but they do. They meet in the middle, and it feels like absolution.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hannibal: [five hours later, making dinner] it's so funny i Just thought of this bible story where [explains god's forgiveness of biblical nineveh]</p><p>will: so how long have you been holding onto that?</p><p>hannibal: since the church</p></blockquote></div></div>
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